The Blake Adventures: New Bloom
by AndAllThatMishigas
Summary: Set shortly after To The Storm. The Begonia Festival has returned to Ballarat and Jean is set on winning. But a mysterious death puts her victory in question, along with everything else in Lucien Blake's life.
1. Chapter 1

**The Blake Adventures: New Bloom**

 _December 1959_

Lucien Blake came home one afternoon to a very quiet house. He paused, curious as to where everyone could be. As he hung up his hat, he found a note on the hall table. Mattie was going to help a friend pick out a dress and she wouldn't be home for dinner. That explained that. Charlie was on duty, but he would be back soon. Which just left Jean.

But Lucien knew exactly where she would be. He made his way out to the sunroom. Sure enough, there she was, obsessing over her plants. He watched her quietly for a moment with a small smile.

"You've been at this for weeks. Should I be worried about you?"

Her head whipped around, startled by the sound of his voice. "Lucien! You know I want to win this year! And I refuse to let that damned Noel Ross beat me again," she grumbled, barely taking her eyes off her work.

"Jean, I know you're looking forward to the Begonia Festival, but I do think this is a bit much. Noel Ross is a nice enough chap. And he's a professional gardener. Your plants are just as marvelous as his, to be sure, but you do have other things in your life beyond fussing with a begonia plant," he pointed out.

"Noel Ross has beaten me at everything my entire life, and he's never let me forget it. His parents had a farm neighboring ours. We grew up together. Always in the same class at school. You know he got married just a week before Christopher and I did? I think he heard Christopher proposed and he went out and found himself a wife just so he could beat me to a wedding." Jean's voice had a bitterness in it that was unfamiliar to most who knew her. She knew she was letting her competitive nature get the better of her. Usually, she could hide it better than this.

Lucien raised his brow in surprise. He wasn't used to Jean acting this way. It was a level of rivalry he would expect from himself with Patrick Tyneman, but Jean was usually above such petty things. "Come here, leave that be. Darling, you're going to drive yourself crazy."

Jean reluctantly took off her gloves and fully turned her attention to Lucien. The term of endearment had broken through her bad mood and made her smile. She went over to the small settee where Lucien had sat down. It was then that she realized what he was holding. "Where did those come from?"

He handed her the magnificent bouquet of flowers. "I did some reading in preparation for the festival this year. Did you know that begonias are symbols of warning and foreboding? Can't imagine why on earth Ballarat seems so enamored with the blasted things. They are quite pretty, and I know they are difficult to grow properly, but I must say I wasn't surprised to find that they carry such negative connotations."

Jean narrowed her eyes at him. She'd just been handed a bouquet of exquisite flowers and then told that the one flower she'd spent the majority of her free time cultivating was a dark omen and apparently a waste of time. "I see," she said simply, not wanting to get cross at him.

Lucien could feel the change in the mood, and that certainly wasn't what he intended. He quickly continued, "After that I decided to look into the meanings of other flowers. And when I did, I wanted to go out and get some for you. The florist on High Street didn't have everything I wanted, but I think these go together nicely."

That explanation brought Jean back to a smile. "They're beautiful, Lucien. Now, are you going to tell me what they all mean?"

"Yes, now, let's see…the peonies are revered in China as symbols of honor and prosperity. The dahlia here is the one I knew I had to get for you. They represent elegance and dignity, and there is no one with more elegance and dignity than you." He paused, appreciating the beaming smile on Jean's face. "Let's see, the daffodils are for new beginnings. And then of course the red roses are for true love." Lucien couldn't help but lean over to place a gentle kiss on her cheek as a small expression of the true love he felt for her.

"What a lovely sentiment. I quite like all of that." She pointed to each of the different red, yellow, and pink varieties and recited the meanings he'd told her. "Honor and prosperity, elegance and dignity, true love, and…hang on, you said daffodils are for new beginnings? Is that you and I?"

Lucien looked into her big, bright turquoise eyes and suddenly his mouth was dry. "I…yes. You and I. And I was going to wait until after the festival, but…" He reached into the pocket of his trousers for the small box he'd been keeping with him at every moment, just in case an opportunity like this presented itself.

Jean saw what he was holding and had to stifle a gasp. She couldn't allow herself to think he was…dear lord, yes he was!

"My darling Jean," Lucien began, taking her hand in his. There was something about holding her hand that made him feel safer and more at home than anything he'd ever experienced. "This last month together, our romance of sorts, the honor of courting you…I've fallen more in love than I ever thought possible. You are perfection in every way, and before you, I didn't think miracles and blessings could possibly be real. But here you are. And somehow, I suspect you love me, too."

Jean nodded in assurance. She swallowed hard, trying to press her lips together to keep from crying out with the overwhelming emotion of the moment.

Lucien chuckled. "Good, I'm glad. And because we love each other and because I never want to live a day of my life without you and because I want to be able to make you happy forever…Jean, will you marry me?" He opened the small box to reveal the diamond ring nestled inside.

Though the proposal was an utter shock—Jean hadn't imagined he'd get the sense to marry her for quite some time, that she'd have to be the one to nudge him toward propriety, as usual—she didn't have a single doubt about her answer. "Yes, Lucien, I will marry you." She leaned forward, rumpling the bouquet slightly, in order to kiss him.

They broke apart with giddy smiles. Lucien placed the ring on her finger. It fit perfectly, as he'd sent it out to get resized nearly two weeks earlier.

"Oh, Lucien, it's beautiful!"

"I'm glad you like it. It was my mother's. Neither Dad nor I liked to look at it for the longest time. But after we got back from Adelaide, I couldn't stop looking at it. It seems it was meant for you," he told her adoringly. He began to kiss her again, this time taking more time with his passion and ardor.

Jean allowed the indulgence for a moment. It seemed rightfully celebratory, but she soon pulled away. "I should arrange these flowers in a vase before we crush them to bits."

He cleared his throat, blinking back to reality. "Right. Yes."

As she stood up, Jean broke off the bloom from one of the daffodils and put it in the buttonhole of his lapel. "New beginnings," she murmured, giving him one final peck on the lips.


	2. Chapter 2

Lucien joined Jean in the kitchen. He wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in the crook of her neck as she arranged the flowers in a vase. She was glad he couldn't see her face, as the beaming smile on her face was positively indecent.

"I cannot wait to make you Mrs. Blake," he said, his voice muffled by the kisses he placed on every inch of skin he could reach.

"As delighted as I am at our engagement, I do think perhaps you should have waited until after the Begonia Festival," she said practically. Though it was difficult to remain rational when he was doing such wonderful things to her like this.

He extricated himself from her so that he could face her properly. "You think I should have waited? Would you like to give back the ring and have me try again in two days?"

Jean clutched her left hand protectively. "No, of course not! I just mean that with all the excitement of the festival, perhaps we should wait until after to announce it to everyone. I'll wear the ring and we'll behave in public…" She paused and looked at him pointedly at that remark, eliciting a smirk from him. "And if anyone asks, we won't be dishonest, but I just don't want to have my engagement ruined by Noel Ross doing something awful," she added bitterly.

"You really have something of a rivalry with him, don't you?"

"Yes!" she replied emphatically.

"Alright then. I shall defer to your judgment," he conceded. "But as soon as you win that prize, you won't be able to stop me from telling every person we meet that you're my fiancée."

Jean couldn't believe how giddy he was about the prospect of marrying her. She hadn't expected the formalities to mean so much to him. She voiced her surprise. "Are you really so eager for people to know? I didn't think you'd ever want to marry me."

His face fell. "Jean, how could you ever think that? Do you doubt my feelings?"

"No, I just didn't think you'd want to be married again. You've never really struck me as the sort to need it. And frankly, that's one of the things that concerned me when you came to Adelaide and after we got back. Our situation wasn't entirely proper to begin with, after all."

Lucien took her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. "I never thought I'd marry again. I never thought I'd want to marry again. But I also never thought I'd fall in love with the most wonderful woman on this earth. And marriage is important to me because it's important to you, and you are the most important thing to me. And I don't want to always hide away in secret with you. I couldn't be prouder to be able to call you mine."

"And I'll be very proud to be your wife, Lucien. Even if you are a bit odd and unconventional," she teased.

He laughed and gave her hand a lingering kiss before letting go. "Right then, you finish with these flowers and I'll go back to my study. And I don't know if she told you, but Mattie will be gone for dinner. And Charlie should be home soon."

Jean nodded and went back to her flower arranging. And as happy as she was, her thoughts drifted back to her begonia and that horrid Noel Ross.

The next morning, Lucien drove Jean to the festival grounds to deliver her begonia for the judging later that afternoon. She was quite nervous, though she tried not to show it. Lucien saw through her façade, however, and reassured her that she'd worked very hard and it was sure to work out in her favor. "And even if it doesn't I suppose I'll marry you anyway." That had made her smile.

Lucien didn't see Jean again all day. They'd missed each other when he left home to go prepare for the judging and Jean returned to change into a smart suit for the award ceremony later that day.

Both Matthew Lawson and Patrick Tyneman, fellow judges, had asked him why he was smiling like a fool and humming to himself during their meeting prior to the judging to discuss the criteria they were looking for in the flowers. Lucien had to admit that, even though he'd been reticent to agree to Jean's request to keep their engagement quiet for a few days, he enjoyed having this lovely, beautiful secret all to himself. It was just an added bonus that it was annoying Patrick.

Sarah Hoyle, president of the Garden Club and head judge for the festival, gathered them all and announced that it was time to go to the tent and begin the judging. All of the entrants had been removed and the flowers had identifying information only on the bottom of the pots, so the judging would be truly blind. Lucien had already told Matthew that he'd point out Jean's begonia so they'd be sure to keep hers in the running with the rest of the judges. It probably wasn't fair, but they were only two of five, and the rest of the judges knew that the police surgeon and former chief superintendent knew absolutely nothing about flowers, so their opinions wouldn't count for much.

The tent was full of rows of tables, each with a dozen flower pots. Sarah Hoyle and Frances Tevorrow, widow of the former Lord Mayor, led the group, ooh-ing and ahh-ing at the various plants. Lucien and Matthew brought up the rear, making snide comments as Lucien helped his friend hobble along slowly; Matthew was still learning how to walk with the cane after the accident that caused Lucien to nearly have to amputate the leg.

All of a sudden, there was movement at the far end of the tent, behind a row of tables. Lucien looked and saw Jean stand up with the most terrified look on her face. Her navy suit had dark splotches on it and in her hand was a set of pruning shears, dripping red.

"Oh my god, Jean!" Lucien cried out, sprinting to her.

She couldn't move. She couldn't speak. She couldn't think. It had all happened so fast. Her face stared blankly ahead, unable to comprehend anything anyone was saying to her.

The other judges joined Lucien, concerned about Jean.

"Oh my god, that's Noel Ross!" Sarah exclaimed.

The man was lying on the ground, dead. Stabbed in the chest. Presumably with the pruning shears Jean was still holding. The blood was everywhere.

"Jean, what happened?" Lucien asked quietly. He looked up at her from where he knelt next to Noel Ross's body.

She didn't respond. It was as though Lucien was at the end of a tunnel and his voice was only an echo. She barely blinked as chaos erupted around her, even as Bill Hobart handcuffed her and walked her out.


	3. Chapter 3

"You cannot be serious!" Lucien shouted. He paced back and forth in front of Chief Superintendent Carlyle's desk.

"Blake, I cannot release her. Not with this much evidence against her. She was found covered in the victim's blood, holding the murder weapon. And she had motive! You yourself said that she and this Noel Ross fellow have had a rivalry for years. Everyone in town seems to know about it. And even if you do vouch for her character, she is your housekeeper, so you've got a bit of a bias, don't you think?" Frank's voice remained calm and even.

Lucien opened his mouth to inform him that Jean was not his housekeeper, but his fiancée, but he quickly clammed up. That fact would only further confirm his bias in the matter.

Frank began again, "Doc, why don't you tell me where Jean's been all day, hmm? Or perhaps what you know about her history with Noel Ross?"

A million things ran through Lucien's head. Jean's incessant bitter complaining about Noel Ross. The fact that he hadn't actually seen her since he dropped her off at the tent with her begonia. He was fairly certain that she didn't have her pruning shears with her, but in a tent full of people with flowers entered in a competition, surely such a weapon wouldn't be difficult to get ahold of.

Lucien shook his head vigorously. "No. I don't care what the evidence says, Frank. Jean isn't capable of something like this."

"I still have to hold her." The Chief Superintendent's tone was almost apologetic. Almost.

Unable to contemplate the predicament any further, Lucien stormed off down the hall to the holding cells. He found Jean sitting on the edge of the cot, her posture rigid as she stared blankly at the wall. She turned and stood upon hearing his footsteps. She gave a sad, strained smile when she saw him approach.

"Jean," he breathed, reaching to her through the bars that separated them.

She took his hand and allowed herself the comfort of his touch. "This is just awful," she lamented.

"I know. I wish I could get you out of there, but Frank won't listen. He says he has to hold you. So far there isn't another suspect," he explained.

Jean nodded. "I didn't see anyone when I came in to give one last check on my begonia. I found Noel lying there with the pruning shears sticking out of his chest. He was still gasping for air. I pulled the shears out and tried to stop the bleeding but there was just so much blood! I think he died just as you all came into the tent for the judging."

He stroked her hand with his thumb. "I know, love." He'd been present when Jean had conveyed all of this to the police when they brought her in, after the shock had worn off enough for her to speak. "But can you think of anyone other than you who might have had it out for Noel Ross?"

She frowned. "Other than me?"

"Well, you do have a motive. You've been going on about this rivalry with Noel Ross for days," Lucien pointed out.

"You think I did it, don't you?" Jean accused.

"No, of course not, but you have to admit that the evidence is rather strong against you."

"I don't think it's up to me to prove my innocence, especially to you!" She jerked her hand away from his grasp and took a step back, out of his reach.

Lucien felt as though he'd gotten the wind knocked out of him. "Jean…" he begged in a whisper.

"I think you'd better go. I was going to ask you to go perform an autopsy so you could find some actual evidence and not just this circumstantial nonsense that has me locked up here, but I think perhaps it's better if Alice does it. She's probably less likely to be predisposed to my guilt than you at this point." Jean was surprised at the venom in her voice. She hadn't fully intended such vitriol, but she was locked up in a cell with her own fiancé accusing her of murder. A small part of her felt entitled to these cruel words. But looking at him, all she could see was the desperate pain in his expression. She looked away so she wouldn't have to see it.

Unable to do anything else, Lucien turned and left. He would go to that autopsy. He'd examine that body all night if he had to. Something would turn up to exonerate Jean. He'd prove her innocence to convince the police as well as himself. His faith in her was one thing, but the weight of evidence was quite another.

Jean was a little surprised he hadn't tried to say anything else to her. Not even a goodbye. Perhaps she had been a little too harsh on him. But she vowed to herself that she'd apologize to him tomorrow. Surely he'd understand the kind of stress she was under, and he'd forgive her severe words.

Lucien was hard at work examining every single inch of the body for hours. Alice had gone home long ago. She'd allowed him to continue working far beyond what was actually required. Alice recognized that manic expression from the few times he'd been so obsessively convinced of a suspect's innocence or guilt that he needed to find the proof he was so desperately looking for. This was the worst case of it she'd ever seen on him. Of course, she'd suspected his feelings for Jean Beazley long ago. Anyone with a pair of eyes would have. And as much as Alice liked Jean and wanted to help Dr. Blake prove her innocence, she knew that this was something he had to do on his own.

At half past midnight, Lucien was interrupted in his work. Mattie ran in wearing a coat over her dressing gown. "Lucien, you've got to come right now," she said gravely.

"Mattie? What's happened?" he asked, thoroughly confused.

She blinked away tears and launched into a rambling explanation. "Charlie called the house before he did anything else. You know he had the night shift. When he arrived at the station, he found Ned tied up and gagged and the door to the cell lifted off its hinges."

"What?!"

"Lucien, Jean's gone. Charlie is afraid that this means she really is guilty and has broken out of her cell to escape. And he's pretty sure that everyone else is going to think the same thing." Mattie's voice shook with emotion.

Contrary to anyone's expectation, Lucien began to laugh. "Mattie, there is no way on earth that Jean broke herself out of a jail cell. Even if she knew how, we both know she wouldn't do something like that. There is not a single person who would ever believe Jean Beazley would try to escape custody."

"Just like how no one would ever believe Jean Beazley could kill a man. But they did arrest her, Lucien," Mattie countered, not sharing Lucien's upbeat view.

He just shook his head. No, he was convinced, now more than ever, that Jean was innocent. Because if nothing else, she would never leave him. Not now, not when they were engaged to be married. She wouldn't ever abandon him this way if she'd had a choice.

But while this jail break had convinced Lucien beyond a shadow of a doubt that Jean was innocent, it also made him realize that someone else had broken Jean out of jail. Someone had kidnapped her.


	4. Chapter 4

Jean woke up to bright mid-morning light in her eyes. Before she even opened her eyes, she knew exactly where she was. But no, surely she was mistaken…the smell was unmistakable, but it had been so very long since she'd smelled it.

"You'll want to drink some water or you'll have a nasty headache. It took a lot of chloroform to keep you out." A woman's voice spoke sharply, causing Jean's head to pound just as had been predicted.

As she sat up and looked around, Jean couldn't believe she was really there. Her ankles were tied tightly with rope, but her hands were mercifully free. She took a tin mug of water from the source of the voice. Another reality she couldn't believe. "Nancy Palmer!?"

"Nancy Nicholson, now. Been married a long time, Jeanie." A woman with bright blonde hair, tied back with a red kerchief, grinned maliciously.

Jean balked at the familiar nickname of her youth. "What on earth is going on? Why are we in the old Ross barn?" she asked, taking a sip of water.

"My husband and I bought this farm after old Ross died. Noel had his shop in town, so Martin bought it from him. You never really noticed, did you, Jeanie? You always were loftier than the rest of us, so self-important." Nancy spoke with untempered disdain.

All Jean could do was frown and remain quiet. Nancy Palmer, now Nicholson, always was a talker, and would likely reveal useful information without prompting.

"It's strangely fitting, having you here, tied up in this old barn. After all that you did to ruin Noel, that we can do away with you, too."

"What _I_ did to ruin Noel? What did I ever do to Noel Ross?! He's hated me all my life!" Jean cried, unable to keep the exclamation to herself.

"From what I saw, Noel was always a little in love with you. And then you had to go off and marry Christopher Beazley. I don't think poor Noel ever got over it. Though I suppose you didn't fare much better. Since Christopher fancied me from the moment we met. I bet he would have run off with me if he hadn't gotten killed in the war," Nancy posited.

"From what I remember, Nancy, it was you who threw yourself at my husband, and he never wanted a thing to do with you." Jean was getting angry now. Nancy was baiting her, she knew, but it was working.

"Doesn't matter much now. Noel and Christopher are dead. And soon you will be, too."

"If you're going to kill me, why haven't you done it yet?" Jean asked warily.

Nancy's lips curled into a grin of pure evil. "Well, at the moment, I have to go. Martin will be by soon to check in on you, so you be a good girl, Jeanie. Besides, Ballarat can't have two bodies at once. Everyone thinks you killed Noel, which wasn't really what we had in mind, but did work out nicely for us. This way, when we do kill you, it'll just seem like you escaped and ran off. You remember the fields back there. You know that no one will ever find even one piece of your body once we've buried it."

As Nancy took the water away from Jean and tied her hands behind her back, Jean realized that she wouldn't be able to wait for a rescue. No one but Jean herself would ever know to look for her here. And no one but Jean would know that Nancy was entirely capable of making good on those threats.

Back at the Blake house, Lucien was frantically shouting at Charlie in the kitchen. "What the bloody hell are you doing interviewing me!? Jean has been taken, more than likely by Noel Ross's actual killer, and you all are wasting your time looking for evidence of her guilt! She's not guilty! She didn't do this!"

Charlie was desperately trying to keep calm, but Lucien's worry was seeping into Charlie, making him more anxious than he already was. "Doc, I know she didn't do this. But I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't follow every angle. And right now, I've been charged with interviewing you. The boss thought you'd be more receptive to me than Hobart."

"Well, that's certainly true," Lucien conceded. He sat down at the table and buried his face in his hands. "Charlie, I cannot lose her."

"I know. We're all worried about her. She's special to all of us," Charlie replied comfortingly.

"No, I mean…" Lucien trailed off. He didn't want to tell Charlie that he and Jean had gotten engaged. Not now, not like this.

Charlie watched Dr. Blake sit there in such distress. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen the doctor this upset. Usually, he'd yell about an injustice or drink himself into a stupor to drown the guilt or sorrow. But this was very different. "Look, Doc, you're the first on my list to interview. I'm supposed to phone Mrs. Ross and ask her to come to the station for her interview. But perhaps she can't answer the phone because she's already in conversation with someone else…"

Lucien sat up, taking Charlie's hint. He nodded without a word and quickly grabbed his hat and jacket to drive into town.

He went into the Ross Flower Shop and respectfully removed his hat. "Mrs. Ross, I'm so sorry to see you again so soon under these conditions," Lucien greeted politely.

A petite blonde woman looked up from behind the front counter. Her eyes were drawn and her face pale. "Dr. Blake, welcome back. Did you find the bouquet to your liking?"

"Oh yes, it was wonderful. The recipient was very pleased." Lucien gave a small smile. To think, two days earlier he had stood in the same spot and purchased the bouquet of flowers that had prompted him to propose to Jean. He cleared his throat and returned himself to the present. "I'm surprised to see you here. My sincerest condolences on the death of your husband."

"Thank you, Doctor," Ellen Ross replied with a small nod. "The shop's got to be minded, especially during the Begonia Festival. Busy time, for flowers, you know. But my sister's come into town to stay with me and help out. She went to do the shopping."

"I'm glad you have someone with you," Lucien said kindly. "But I was wondering if you could tell me about your husband. I did the autopsy, you see, and I found some curious things that I was hoping you could help me figure out."

The widow glanced at the front door before returning her eyes to the doctor. "I suppose so."

"Mrs. Ross, is there anyone you know of who might have harbored animosity toward your husband? The wound, I'm sorry to say, was caused by a huge amount of force. There was no sign of hesitation, just one single stab deep into the chest, puncturing the lung."

She went even paler, and Lucien remembered that technical details of murder were not things to share with the bereaved under most circumstances.

As Mrs. Ross was about to answer, the front door opened. A woman came in, carrying shopping bags. Her blonde hair was tied back with a red kerchief. "Ellen, I'll put these things away, since you're busy with a customer," the woman announced.

"I'm afraid I'm not a customer. Not today. I'm the police surgeon, investigating the death of Noel Ross," Lucien explained.

The new arrival put the bags down on the counter so she could shake his hand. "Nancy Nicholson. Ellen's sister. Nice to meet you," she introduced pleasantly.

Lucien was taken aback by her forceful cheerfulness. But then again, people reacted to death in a myriad of ways. "I was just asking Mrs. Ross if there was anyone who may have wanted Mr. Ross dead."

Nancy shrugged. "No one specifically, but he was a rotten blighter. Owed debts all over town. Never seemed to get on anyone's good side. And any man who treats his wife like his personal servant, lacking an ounce of human feeling…well, you can see, Dr. Blake, I'm not too sorry he's gone. But I'm sure I'm not the only one."

Ellen Ross stared blankly at the counter in front of her. Her expression didn't change once as Nancy spoke. She just remained stoic and quiet.

Lucien decided to press on, hoping for a reaction that could give him some kind of clue. "When was the last time you saw Noel on the day of the judging, Mrs. Ross?"

"At breakfast. He left early to take his begonia to the judging tent. He never came back home. I was to meet him there in the evening for the award presentation," Ellen replied in a quiet voice.

He noticed that Nancy was giving the slightest of glares. Lucien knew he needed to go somewhere quiet to think. "I thank you for your time, Mrs. Ross. I'll let you know if I have any more questions. Though I'm sure the police will be contacting you shortly."

"Didn't the police already arrest Jean Beazley? She's had it out for Noel as long as I can remember," Nancy stated.

Ellen's eyes went wide. "I was very sorry to hear about Jean, Doctor. I suppose you'll be hiring a new housekeeper soon."

Lucien's mouth went dry at the mere suggestion that Jean wouldn't be returning home to him. "The house isn't the same without her," he replied simply. He gave one more strained smile and turned to leave.

As he made his way out, he overheard Nancy hiss, " _That's_ the Blake she works for? My god, she certainly gets around. No wonder Noel couldn't stand her."

It took everything in Lucien to keep walking calmly and not turn back to shout at Nancy Nicholson for disparaging Jean. But even in his sensitive state, Lucien knew the only thing to do was find who really killed Noel Ross and bring Jean home.


	5. Chapter 5

"I'm really sorry if it isn't any good. I tried not to burn things, but I don't think I was successful," Mattie apologized as she spooned eggs onto Lucien's plate.

"It's quite alright, Mattie. Thank you for making breakfast," he replied kindly.

They picked at the sorry excuse for scrambled eggs in silence. Neither had slept very well. Lucien was up all night in his study, trying desperately to figure out what had happened. Mattie had been too worried to get any rest. More than once, she had gotten out of bed and stood in front of her bedroom door, about to go see if Lucien needed her help. That's what Jean usually did. She always knew when he needed her. Mattie could try, but it wasn't the same. And this time, she had a feeling that attempting to take Jean's place would just make Lucien feel even worse.

Lucien was at a sticking point. He knew the key to the mystery lay in the connection between Jean, Noel Ross, and Nancy Nicholson. And whenever he was curious about the backgrounds and histories of people in Ballarat, he asked Jean. She always knew everything about everyone, after living her whole life in the town. And Lucien also knew he was getting distracted by the things Nancy had said about Jean. Whenever he got lost down this sort of rabbit hole, Jean was always the one to bring him some clarity. Just more evidence that he needed her for everything. Jean kept him fed and on schedule, she kept him grounded and civil, and she brought him more joy and love than he ever knew possible. And he refused to believe that he wouldn't be able to get her back.

"I need to make a phone call," Lucien announced, getting up from the kitchen table.

He'd barely touched his eggs, but Mattie wasn't offended. She knew they were awful. As she got up to do the dishes, she heard the front door open and shut. Apparently whatever phone call Lucien had to make caused him to leave.

Lucien arrived at the home of his dear friend, Matthew Lawson. In his desire to understand more about Noel Ross, he remembered that he knew someone else who'd lived in Ballarat all his life. Matthew had said over the phone that he had some time in the morning to speak with Lucien, so he'd rushed right over.

"Since I'm certain you aren't following police instructions of leaving well enough alone, why don't you tell me what theory you're working on?" Matthew began, not bothering with pleasantries.

"The police seem convinced that Jean is guilty, and I'm convinced both that she isn't capable of a murder like this, as well as the fact that she's been kidnapped and no one is looking for her. So what do you know about Noel Ross? What enemies did he have in town?"

"Well, he owned that florist shop. The wife ran it mostly, I think."

"Is she from Ballarat?"

"No, actually, I remember when Ellen Palmer came to Ballarat. It was something of the talk of the town. Noel Ross had stolen his father's car and driven to Bendigo and brought her back with him. They got married in something of a hurry. After that, her sister came to live with them on the Ross family farm."

Lucien nodded. "Nancy Nicholson. I suppose she's married now. Do you know anything about her?"

"Nicholson…I know that name…Yes! Martin Nicholson! I've arrested him more than a few times. Mostly petty theft and bar fights. Whenever he comes into town, he gets into trouble."

"When he comes into town?"

"Yeah, after the old Ross's passed, Noel inherited the empty farm. Martin Nicholson bought it from him after he married Nancy," Matthew told him.

"I see…" Lucien had a nagging feeling that this fact was significant but he needed time to piece together exactly how. Best leave that for now. "What about Noel's gambling debts? Who did he owe?"

Matthew frowned. "No, he wasn't a gambler as far as I knew. Bit of a stickler for propriety, actually. He's the one who reported Martin Nicholson more than once. Can you believe that Martin actually tried to steal from his own brother-in-law's store?"

Obviously Nancy had lied about Noel's character. It made Lucien wonder what else she'd lied about. "Do you know anything about his relationship with his wife?"

Matthew just shrugged. "Not much. Can't say they seemed very happy, but I suppose when you drag a woman from her home and marry her a month later, you can't expect a fairytale ending."

Perhaps Nancy had been truthful about that part. Lucien continued to ask questions as they popped into his head. "And Nancy? What do you know of her?"

"Terrible flirt," Matthew told him with a slight growl. "I don't know what made her settle down with Martin Nicholson, but before they married, she was all over every man in a ten-mile radius. Single or married, didn't seem to matter to her." He chuckled, remembering, "I actually did hear more than one rumor way, way back. I didn't spend much time around the farming folk, mind you, but the gossip in town was that she was particularly shameless with Christopher Beazley. I never did hear what Jean had to say about it, but I can't imagine she'd have let that go lightly."

Lucien could practically hear the click in his head as things fell into place. He didn't have an answer yet, but he knew where to get it. "Matthew, can you show me where the Nicholson farm is?"

"Actually, I have to go judge begonias, since the awards have been postponed to today. They've got an alternate for you since Sarah Hoyle figured you're in no state to be on the judging panel anymore. I wasn't lucky enough to get a pass. But I'll write down where it is if you'll grab that map of Ballarat I keep at my desk over there," Matthew replied, gesturing to his rolltop desk in the corner of the sitting room.

Elsewhere, Jean was roughly woken up from where she slept on hay-covered crates. Her wrists and ankles were still tied up, and she was weak from hunger and thirst and exhaustion.

"Up, you. Nancy wants you moved."

She blinked awake, looking into Martin Nicholson's ruddy, fat face. His voice and manner were both gruff; not an ounce of subtlety in his entire lumbering body. Jean took her time sitting up until he grabbed her shoulders and yanked her up. "Where are you moving me?" she asked in a hoarse voice.

Martin's wide mouth spread into the grin of a murderous animal. "Out to the field. Figured I'd have you walk out to the nice hole I dug so I don't have to carry your body after we shoot you."

"Is Nancy joining us?" Jean was impressed with her confident tone, despite feeling paralyzed with fear on the inside.

"I reckon so. She wants to watch you go down."

Ice chilled Jean inside and out. "I won't walk to my own makeshift grave. You'll have to carry me, and if I'm already dead, I can't struggle," she pointed out. Something, anything to distract and delay what was starting to seem inevitable.

Martin went quiet, visibly considering Jean's words.

She continued, "I don't know if Nancy's told you, but I grew up playing in this barn when I was a child. And if you'll let me stand in my favorite spot, I won't run or avoid it. You can shoot me where I stand."

"You've got a favorite spot in the barn?" he asked, disgust in his tone.

"Yes, it's actually where I had my first kiss," she lied. "Right there, beside the ladder to the hayloft." Jean nodded at the spot. Her teeth were clenched as she waited for his response.

He sighed in annoyance. "Fine." Martin pulled a knife off his belt with one hand as he held his shotgun in the other. He deftly kept his finger on the trigger and pointed the gun directly at her head as he cut her ankles free of the rope. "Go one. Stand where you want."

Jean swallowed hard. "Please stand a few feet away with that gun. If it's too close, I'll flinch." She stood and walked on wobbly, unused legs to the exact place in the barn she needed to be.

Martin stood about five feet in front of her and lifted the shotgun. But before he could aim properly, Nancy entered the barn. "What the hell is going on?" she shrieked.

The moment Martin was distracted enough to move the shotgun, Jean, praying no one had bothered to fix the barn in the thirty years since she'd been there, lifted her foot and stomped down as hard as she could on one of the floorboards.

The loose board popped right up on the other end, knocking the gun out of Martin's hands and hitting him in the face.

Miraculously, the gun didn't go off. Jean dove toward it and grabbed it, despite her wrists still being tied.

Martin had fallen to the floor. His mouth was bleeding and he wasn't moving. Presumably, the blow to his face had knocked him out. Nancy couldn't process what had happened. She looked at her husband, collapsed on the ground, and then to Jean, who was awkwardly lying on the ground as well, with a shotgun trained directly at Nancy. In a panic, Nancy just screamed and ran away.

Jean just watched Nancy run off. Her heart was pounding and her entire body was shaking like a leaf. She heard the sound of a car engine start and then drive away, and Jean exhaled. As carefully as she could, Jean got up off the ground. It took some maneuvering to hold onto the gun, cut the ropes off her hands on the old, rusty saw in the far corner of the barn, and keep an eye on Martin, in case he woke up.

When she was finally free of her binds, Jean held the shotgun properly and took it with her outside. The house was about fifty yards away. She hurried as quickly and quietly as she could, just in case Nancy hadn't actually left in the car Jean had heard earlier.

The kitchen door of the house was exactly where Jean remembered, and it was unlocked. Not much had changed in the years since Jean had been inside there as a child. But now, thankfully, the kitchen was equipped with a telephone. Adrenaline still coursing through her veins, Jean put the gun down and dialed with a shaky hand.

"Ballarat Police."

Jean recognized that voice anywhere. "Charlie! Oh Charlie, thank goodness."

Charlie nearly dropped the telephone in surprise. "Mrs. Beazley!?"

"Yes, it's me. I'm at the Nicholson farm. Martin and Nancy Nicholson had me tied up in their barn after they took me from the station house. They conspired to kill Noel. I think Nancy's gone off in a car, but Martin is knocked out in the barn. Send someone quickly, please!"

"I'm on my way," Charlie replied, hanging up the phone. He quickly relayed the information to Chief Superintendent Carlyle as he dialed the phone to inform Dr. Blake. Mattie answered the phone and said Lucien was out somewhere. He gave her the message before running out to the police car to rescue Mrs. Beazley.

Jean heard the sound of a car pull up out front just as she hung up the telephone. It couldn't be the police, not yet. But she didn't dare go out to see, just in case Nancy had returned, perhaps armed. Jean picked up the shotgun and slipped back out through the kitchen. She edged around the back of the house, hearing the sound of a car door open and slam closed. She pressed her lips closed, trying not to hyperventilate through her nose; she'd realized her breathing was too loud through her mouth.

After a silent prayer for God to keep her safe, Jean whipped around the corner, pointing the gun at whoever had arrived.

"Jean!"

She recognized the sound of Lucien's voice before she registered the sight of him standing in front of her, his hands up in surrender. It was a natural response to having a gun pointed at you. "Lucien!" she exclaimed. "You found me!" She let the shotgun go limp in her hands as she moved toward him.

Lucien smiled and went to meet her. But his expression quickly changed. "Jean, look out!" he shouted.

Jean whirled around as Lucien ran past her. Martin Nicholson had woken up and was running toward them with his knife poised for attack. But Major Lucien Blake delivered a swift right hook directly to his swollen, bloody face, knocking Martin to the ground again. Lucien disarmed him before realizing he was out cold. Again.

"Is there anyone else around?" Lucien asked Jean frantically.

"No, no, I don't think so."

His countenance relaxed and he calmly walked to her. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?" Lucien murmured his words as he placed his hands on her cheeks, stroking her face and her hair with reverent affection.

"I think I'm alright. You can give me a proper examination in your surgery when we get home," she replied, ever pragmatic. The sound of distant sirens made them both look up. "I called Charlie at the station as soon as I escaped the barn. I'm surprised you got here first."

"I didn't know. I came to investigate. But how did you escape?"

Jean didn't want to go into all of it, so she simply said, "There's a loose floorboard in the barn that flies up when you hit it with enough force, so I stomped down on it and hit Martin in the face, took his gun, and I suppose I scared Nancy off."

"How on earth did you know about that floorboard?"

"My brothers and I played in that barn with Noel nearly every day when I was little. Apparently no one's bothered to fix the floor."

He frowned. "You have brothers?"

Jean sighed with a half-smile. "Lucien, I just want to go home."

"Of course." He stroked her cheek once more. "I was so afraid I wouldn't see you again. The police thought you'd escaped, but I knew. I knew you wouldn't leave."

She felt tears well up in her tired eyes as she glanced down at the diamond engagement ring on her finger. "No, Lucien, I'll never leave you." And when she looked back at his face, he was leaning in towards her. She closed her eyes and gripped the lapels of his jacket, pulling him into a fiery kiss.

"Blake!"

They broke apart to see Frank Carlyle and Charlie standing, shocked at the sight.

"Oh no, it's alright, we're engaged to be married," Lucien explained. Jean held up her left hand to show off the ring, confirming his statement.

Charlie's face broke out into a joyful grin. Frank just smirked and nodded.

Lucien held onto Jean's hand as he pointed to Martin Nicholson, still knocked out a few feet away, and explained what had transpired. "If it's all the same, Jean can come to the station tomorrow for an interview, but for now, I think it's best if I take her home and make sure she isn't injured."

On the drive home, Jean dozed with her head on Lucien's shoulder. Now that the crisis had ended and she finally felt safe, all her energy was gone.

Lucien turned off the engine in front of their house and shifted position slightly to hold her in his arms. He pressed light kisses to her forehead and whispered, "Let's get inside, love. Quick examination and a bath and then to bed for you, alright?"

Jean just groaned sleepily, lifting her head with great effort.

The front door opened and Mattie came running out. "Lucien, Lucien, Charlie called! He said…" She saw Jean get out of the car. "Oh I see you already know." The young woman ran towards her friend. "Jean, are you alright?"

"She just needs some rest, Mattie," Lucien assured her.

"Yes, of course." Mattie helped Jean walk inside.

Lucien insisted they go into the surgery first. He checked for broken bones and did a cursory review of her vital signs. "I hear Nancy Nicholson rather fancied your Christopher."

Jean scowled as Lucien was taking her pulse. "She was relentless. In church, even, she would flirt with him! Thankfully he never wanted anything to do with her. Which just made her look foolish, really."

"She was very friendly with me when I met her yesterday at the florist shop," Lucien noted, his eyes dancing with mirth.

"I'll be glad to have her in jail, then, as soon as the police catch her," Jean replied bitterly. Lucien just laughed and finished his examination in silence.

"Alright, you go get cleaned up and get straight into bed. I'll give you another examination in the morning to be sure. But I do want you to rest for the next few days until you feel like yourself again," he instructed.

Jean smiled at his concern and placed an affectionate hand on his arm. She would better express her appreciation when her mind wasn't so foggy and her entire body didn't ache. For now, she was desperate to take off the suit that was still stained with Noel Ross's blood and wash the grime and terror of the last two days from her body.

Once Jean was settled in her room, Lucien called the police station to check on the case and share what little he'd gleaned from Jean's explanations. Thankfully, the police had caught Nancy when she'd gone to the florist shop to take her sister and skip town. All three—Nancy, Ellen, and Martin—had given full confessions to the plotted murder of Noel Ross and the kidnapping of Jean Beazley.

Later in the evening, a knock came at the door. Lucien went to answer it. "Matthew!" he greeted in surprise.

The former superintendent smiled. "I'd heard Jean was home."

"Yes, she's upstairs, resting."

"I think you'd better go get her," Matthew said cryptically.

Lucien invited Matthew in, but he declined, wanting to wait for Jean. Curious as to what this was about, Lucien went up to Jean's room and knocked softly on the door. "Jean? I'm sorry to wake you, but could you come downstairs for a moment?"

Rustling sounded from inside the room, and a minute later, Jean opened her bedroom door. Lucien couldn't help but smile. Her hair was all out of sorts; she hadn't bothered to set it in rollers before getting into bed. She was clutching her dressing gown tight around herself and blinking at him, trying to wake up. "What's going on?" she asked groggily.

"Matthew Lawson is at the door and he wants to see you."

"He knows I was kidnapped, doesn't he? That I'm in no state for visitors?"

Lucien shrugged. "I told him, but he did insist."

Frowning, Jean went downstairs resignedly. She went to the front door with a look of sheer annoyance on her face. "Matthew, what is it?" she asked sharply.

With a growing smile, Matthew held out a flower pot to her. "We did the judging today and I wanted to bring you your begonia."

A fire grew in Jean's eyes and she opened her mouth to presumably tell him that this could have certainly waited till morning.

But Matthew quickly continued, bending down as best he could with his bad leg, and picked up something from the porch. "And I wanted to personally deliver the First Place Cup. You won, Jean."

She took the silver trophy from him with shock. "I won?"

Lucien was positively beaming. "You won!" he exclaimed, kissing her cheek exuberantly. "Oh by the way, now that the festival is over, I'm going to tell everyone. Matthew, Jean and I are going to be married."

Matthew laughed. "About bloody time! But we can celebrate another time. Jean, I'm sorry to wake you, but I didn't think your triumph should wait. Go back to bed."

"I can't very well go back to bed now! I…I won!" she said, still in disbelief. After a moment, however, she smiled. "Matthew, come inside, please. I think we've got some champagne somewhere. We've got plenty to toast to."

Jean turned and went into the kitchen, putting her award-winning flower and its trophy on the ledge of the servery window to the kitchen. She grinned proudly as she searched the ice box for the bottle of champagne Lucien had stored away for a special occasion.

Lucien took Matthew into the sitting room and shared the news with Mattie, who was still up reading. He left the two of them in the parlor and dashed into the kitchen. He grabbed Jean on the shoulders and whirled her around giving her a big kiss. "My fiancée is a winner in every possible way." And just as quick as he came, he left to return to Matthew and Mattie.

Jean stood beside the refrigerator, stunned for a moment. She smiled to herself. For the first time in her life, Jean felt like a winner. In every possible way.


End file.
